Days had become weeks, weeks turned to seasons and seasons had passed into years.
All I had known was The Quest.
I had lost my squire in the early days; I remember not his name or face. My steed had perished on the road, left for the crows to pick. My armour, once burnished steel now grinds with corrosion as I walk the land. The mighty blade…Read More
I had the same dream again last night.
I lay in warm, wet earth. It pulsed around me like a great beast.
Faintly came a voice; a voice I knew. I pulled myself up from the sucking mud to find the source. The speaker’s words, I could not make out.
Standing, I could see young Rybert; my squire. He leant against a mighty oak, perhaps a hundred p…Read More
Folkhammer Terrain: The Gaol Oak
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